


The best of days

by sansapotter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:36:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6907525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansapotter/pseuds/sansapotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Robb ships it, and makes no effort to hide it</p>
            </blockquote>





	The best of days

**Author's Note:**

> so alice-of-alonso was joking around once about this, and then I wrote a thing and just found it again so it's getting posted here :)

“Now might be a good time to make a move for Sansa.” 

“Sansa, Sansa Stark? Your sister?” Robb didn’t put the controller down but made a sound of affirmation; the question caught Jon’s attention though. “What makes you think I want to date her?” He paused the game, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. Robb had his full attention now.

“You’re joking right?” Robb scoffed, “you’ve had a crush on her since we were like thirteen, an obvious one.“ Robb shrugged, “she just broke up with whatshisface, it’s a good time.” Robb hit the play button once more, but Jon countered, hitting pause again.

“So you want to set me up with her?” he scoffed, “do you remember when you beat Theon’s ass when we were ten because he thought she was pretty?”

“Theon wouldn’t have respected her.” Robb said plainly, “you would.”

“And then what? She breaks up with me and you have to hate me on principle?”

“She’d break up with you? That’s how it would end?” Robb set the controller down, leaning into the corner of the couch, giving Jon his full attention, and grinning smugly. “What’s to say you wouldn’t break up with her?”

“Sansa’s the kind of girl a guy wants to end up with. Meet the parents, start a family with, that sort of stuff.” He pulled at the stitching on the couch absently, avoiding Robb’s eye. “I wouldn’t throw that away, but I would screw it up.” Jon always managed to screw up what seemed to be a good thing.

Robb hummed, “sounds like you thought about it. It wouldn’t be so bad, my best friend and my little sister. You’d be better than the assholes she’s been with recently.” He picked up his controller and went back to the game. “It’s your life,” Robb said, shrugging casually. Sighing, Jon thought he was in the clear, but it was only beginning. 

It started small, Jon hardly noticed. He showed up at Robb’s one day only to see Sansa lugging two overnight bags up the three flights of stairs. Jon grabbed them both from her, they were the quilted flowery kind. She gave him a grateful smile the straps left little indents in the shoulders of her coat, “are you driving with me and Robb to your parent’s house?”

“Yeah, I’m staying here for a while actually. I have a couple more bags in the car.” She admitted, pulling her keys from her little purse.

“Robb mentioned you broke things off with Joffrey.” She nodded, “you holding up ok?”

“I’ve been worse.” Her voice was soft, her hand rubbed at her neck slowly, his eyes followed the movement and he could swear the skin there was yellowed. “I should run back down and get the others,” 

“Would you like help?” He asked following her through the door and to the guest room, he could smell the fresh linen as soon as he walked in. Mrs. Stark would be proud of Robb’s hosting. Sansa cocked her head when he came back through to the living room, looking at him curiously.   
“I don’t want to be a bother,” she shook her head. “You came here for Robb, he should be home soon.” Jon couldn’t leave it at that though.

“It’ll be faster, you could start to unpack before Robb gets back.” He insisted, that cautious look was back and he wondered if she had always been able to look into someone’s soul that way. He must have passed whatever test she issued, because she nodded and let him follow her through the door.

“You’ll have to let me buy the pizza tonight then,” he was walking close to her, if he hadn’t been he might not have heard it at all. He’d been so aware of Sansa, but he wondered when she traded the haughty tone he was so used to with the hesitant one she used now. 

He knew he was being set up at every possible opportunity. Little things, a text asking Jon to meet Sansa for coffee because Robb was hung up at work and, _you know she hasn’t been leaving the apartment much Jon_. Or the time he and Sansa ended up finely dressed to meet Robb and Val, only to get a text as soon as they ordered their drinks that the couple had _gotten caught up in the moment, and were just going to order take out instead of getting dressed_. He wondered if Sansa had caught on to it too, if she did she bore it with more grace than he had.

In those moments that they were thrown together she watched her slowly warm to him. She never said it, in fact Sansa never gave any hint at all that she wasn’t completely comfortable around Jon in the first place, save for that first day at Robb’s. It was more in the way she stood closer to him while they waited in line, or when she offered him popcorn from her bowl when they watched a movie all together. 

He wasn’t sure what she thought of it all, if she had caught on. He tried not to read too much into her reactions, especially considering she’d just gotten over a breakup that was definitely worse than she let on. The last thing she needed was her brother forcing his best friend in her life in an obvious way. 

For what it was worth, Robb was not even trying to hide his delight. The time the two of them went back to his apartment, the night before they left for Winterfell, Sansa’s friend Myranda (Randa, she insisted coyly when she introduced herself), had been making herself a cocktail and upon meeting Jon made a knowing sound.

“So you’re Jon,” the flirtation was gone, she was all business as she eyed him from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes. She made a thoughtful sound, and returned to Sansa’s room. Jon was left confused, but Robb gave him excited clap on the back.

“I’m telling you man, she likes you. Christmas in Winterfell is going to be awesome,” He couldn’t hide his delight, whooping, and swaggering around the apartment up until Sansa’s door opened. Robb fell as speechless as Jon when Sansa emerged, absently digging through her little purse. 

Even in the kitchen light Sansa looked like a beacon. The red of her dress only seemed to make the red of her hair glow brighter. Her red lips left a mark on Robb’s cheek when she said goodbye, 

“I know we’re leaving tomorrow, I promise I’m already packed.” Even without the lipstick stain on his temple Jon probably would have felt the warmth of it for the rest of his life. It was a big step, one he wondered if she would have taken were it not for the drink in her hand. 

He heard Sansa, for there was only one set of footsteps, giggle and stumble back in around closing time, the thudding of her heels hitting the floor, the collapse of what he could only guess was her reaching for them. Jon tossed the blanket off, hurrying to help her, startled that with only the lights glowing from the street her eyes were so bright. 

“Did I wake you?” She tried at a whisper, “oh Jon I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make so much noise.” Her phone buzzed in her bag as she double checked the locks. It persisted as she made her way to the kitchen with Jon following curiously. She picked a glass and set it on the counter, then plucked the glowing phone out of her bag. Instead of balancing against the counter she leaned against Jon, startling him but only drawing a playful smirk from her. 

He wanted to ask, but didn’t want to pry, it wasn’t any of his business. She lost her balance, and Jon found himself responsible for all of her weight as she tapped out a message. “Randa was worried about me coming up here by myself.” She told him, tottering back, righting herself. “Can you fill that up for me?” she gestured toward the glass. He followed the instruction, helping her to her room, setting the glass of water on the nightstand, and gently taking her phone and plugging it in. She stood, watching him curiously. 

She stood closer to him, almost nose to nose. Her hand wandered to his face, while he forced himself still. Sansa’s hand petted at his beard, traced at the furrow between his brow. Jon felt her breath, cranberries and vodka, but kept his eyes closed. He might do something mad if he opened them. She traced her fingers over his mouth, and sighed pressing her face into his neck. Then with a decisive pat to the side of his face she whispered, “goodnight Jon.” 

The schemes came to a head at the Stark’s house for the holiday. Every archway seemed to house mistletoe, each of the Stark’s seemed to be in on Robb’s plan. Arya insisted Jon be Sansa’s partner for the annual snowball fight, even though he and Arya were undefeated five years strong. Rickon wanted to go on a carriage ride, and Sansa was always his designated partner, what with Robb’s girlfriends or Jon coming round, but suddenly Rickon felt all sneezy and Jon ended up sitting beside Sansa on the carriage ride through the snowy town because it cost fifty dollars to book this close to Christmas. 

The seating arrangements changed since the last time they ate together, and Jon found himself thigh to thigh with Sansa; afterward when Bran wanted to go iceskating, knowing full well it was Sansa’s favorite winter activity, Jon drove and Bran abandoned them for the Reeds. Sansa laughed it off, tugging Jon out on the ice, skating backwards, twirling, smiling at Jon. 

None were as bad as Robb who had gone so far as to make a headband with mistletoe dangling from the top. “It’s perfect!” he proclaimed popping it around Jon’s head. “No more excuses,” but Jon hadn’t heard anyone mutter an excuse at all, all of the Stark’s were taking this endeavor in stride. 

“They’re being pretty obvious, huh?” Sansa laughed when the french doors were pulled shut in the game room. Laughter and shushing could be heard from the other side, “it’s like middle school all over again.”  
“You’re not mad?” He wondered, “they’re trying to play seven minutes in heaven.”

“At least neither of us is wearing my brother’s ridiculous headband.” She teased, “I know,” she said and somehow he realized she was talking about more than the headband, “I know my brother’s been trying to set us up for a while. He’s the worst at keeping secrets, well maybe Rickon’s worse, but he’s only seven.” Then she fixed her eyes on him, “I don’t know why you haven’t told him you aren’t interested,”

“Who said I’m not?” Jon fired back.

“Are you?” she wondered thoughtfully, “you never tried to make a move.”

“You just got over a breakup, I didn’t want to pressure you or anything.” 

“Oh,” she hummed, “that’s all?” She took a step closer to him. “I trust you Jon,” she found his hand where it hung at his side, “you won’t hurt me.”

“No,” he breathed, watching her watch their hands.

“You’d be good to me,” her eyes flitted back to him, “wouldn’t you?” He nodded, feeling her weight against him again like that night in the kitchen. “I thought so.” 

Robb was hardly able to contain himself when he threw open the door to find them on the couch practically entwined. “My best friend and my little sister, do you believe it?” He asked throwing his arm around Val’s shoulder. “This might be the best day ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally living on my [tumblr](http://www.sansapotter.tumblr.com), where I hang and write stuff and post things.


End file.
